March Fo(u)rth, Fatass! - Saturday, March 4th, 2023

 There are bad ideas, there are terrible ideas, and then there's whatever the heck this was.

"ill advised" hardly seems adequate

So the background: my friend Dr. Cupcake in Maryland turned 42 on March 2nd, and to celebrate she was doing a solo triathlon, scheduled for March 4th.

If this all sounds vaguely familiar, it should - I helped her celebrate her 40th in 2021

I had wondered about doing a long run at a tiny local trail - scenically located between a soccer dome, a couple of graveyards, and the 401 - and figured why not do 42 laps in honour of Dr. Cupcake's 42 years?

With appropriate fueling, of course

So back in mid-November, I sent out an invite to a few friends whom I thought might not laugh in my face at the suggestion of running for hours on a 1.34km loop, and laid some plans. I did basically no long runs over the winter (the longest being just under 27km at Polar Paws in late January), but figured I could just rely on past long-distance stuff, as long as the trail conditions weren't too bad. I hoped it wouldn't be icy or slushy..

..then this happened.

Oof.

Almost 10 inches (25cm) of snow fell Friday evening and through Friday night. It was right around the freezing mark, so the snow was wet and heavy, but I hoped it would pack down well. Nonetheless, I braced myself for a really tough day.

You know things are getting real when an avalanche shovel shows up in your aid station kit

I was up just after 6am with an aim to start at 9, and Tank got up near 7 to shovel out the driveway so we could get out.

Which was great because:
a) I sure as heck didn't want to do it before trying to run all day, and
b) it meant the driveway was clean when we got home!

Me? I got myself ready to go, scarfing back a bowl of oatmeal, and drinking a large, fortifying cup of coffee.

..and maybe also tossed in a few extra bits of running kit to change into if I needed them.

We were off to T.Ho's by 8:25am, with plowed roads once we made it off our street. The plows, however, nearly brought this whole business to a grinding halt before it even began: as we approached the driveway (after procuring a hot breakfast for Tank, who'd be manning the aid station all day long), we saw what appeared to be an unbroken 3 foot high wall of heavy, chunky snow.

Fortunately, it seemed that someone had punched their way through, leaving a single car-width hole in the snowbank.

I used the avy shovel to widen it a little, but Tank still had fears of getting stuck

With some careful clutch work and a bit of luck, we were able to make our way up the half-kilometer driveway and into the parking lot at the west end of the trail.

..which runs around the perimeter of a local business's property

You may ask yourself: did I get permission from said business to do this, as the trail does have signage indicating it's private property? The answer there is a somewhat sheepish "no"; I've run this a number of times, and no-one seems to care much - there aren't any "no trespassing" signs, and the trail mostly seems to be the domain of the occasional dog walker, if it's used at all. That, however, did not mean that I might not be kicked out by a representative of the business (or the police), but I mean nothing is totally without risk, right?

Now for the really fun part: in order to trail run, you sort of need a trail. I had brought along something to help with that.

I mean the whole fatass concept is heavy on the DIY, but this was a bit over the top

 

I left Tank to set things up (apart from the little folding chair I used to get my big foamy kicks on), and headed out at 9:05am.

The going was not particularly easy - the snow had come blowing in with some gusting winds, and some of the drifts were a lot to deal with.

It was also fairly grey and dreary so far, and I was having to try to remember the layout of the trail

I was headed in a counter-clockwise direction, which would take me along the fence beside the 401 for a long stretch.

Somewhere beneath the snow lies a crushed gravel path

I couldn't be sure I was actually on the trail for the first while, as there was no sign of it.

Sometimes you've just gotta operate on faith

It got easier to stay on track as I went along, partly because this section follows the top of a berm that was distinct enough to see, and partly because the snow coverage was less deep here: the berm had provided enough elevation for the snow to blow past.

This would prove one of the more runnable spots all day

The trail jogs to the right a bit then continues on down a hill toward a rail underpass that borders the field.

The bottom of the dip skirts the edge of a small pond, frozen over and bordered by tall grasses.

It's quite lovely in summer, with hordes of killdeer nesting in the field beyond

Now begins a bit of a climb: the trail gains 16m of elevation (52.5ft) per 1.34km loop, which isn't exactly mountainous, but certainly isn't flat, either.

Particularly when buried in snow

I do mean buried, too - the face of the hill seemed to have accumulated more snow than almost anywhere else on the course.

Admittedly, it was very beautiful..

..but also bloody difficult.

This section is actually paved under all that white stuff, but you'd never know it. I slogged my way through the heavy drifts, with the snow on the decks of my snowshoes tugging at my feet with every step.

I had hoped my bigger foamy snowshoes would offer better float than my Dion racing snowshoes, but I sank in just the same

There's a big aluminum pergola that sits atop the hill: a lovely spot to watch the sun set of a summer's day.

Somewhat less inviting on this particular occasion

The paved path continues down the other side of the hill, just this side of a fenced-off bit of young forest.

This is definitely the scenic end of the loop

A little more running on the downhill, which is tripartite - the steeper downhill, then a bit of an upswing, then another little upswing, another downhill with a flat spot, and then the final dip to field level.

Mostly bordered by spectacularly snowy trees

There's a long, crushed gravel straightaway to the driveway, which you then run up into the parking lot to do it all again. 

This will serve as the reference pic of what the parking lot looked like in the morning

By the time I got back from my first lap, Tank had stomped himself out an aid station platform in the snow, and got our camp table set up plus a little folding stool to hold the 18.1L water jug.

Those are his snowshoes standing in the snow, and the sign marks the start of the trail at the edge of the parking lot

Tank was actually sitting in the car at the time eating his breakfast, so I just meandered out for another snowshoe lap to see if I could pack things down a little better.

2004 called and wants my mirror (well, window) selfie back

I hadn't paid much attention to where my feet fell on the first lap, but on the second I tried to sort of overlap my original footsteps in an attempt to flatten as much snow as possible.

My natural duck-footedness made for indifferent results

Here's the thing: I didn't think I'd be able to do more than 2 laps in the snowshoes, because - despite fiddling with the straps and snugging them down as best I could - they were rubbing up some horrible blisters on my heels. I had worn thick, tall socks and shoes that are a half-size bigger than my usual ones, and the motion inside the shoes was causing trouble, especially coupled with some sagging of the tall sock cuffs. 

Not with the happy-making

I finally trudged back up the driveway, noticing that the snow was already turning to slush in the wheel tracks as the temperature climbed above the freezing mark.

My left heel was stinging really badly by this point

I took off the snowshoes, then my left shoe and sock - I was really grateful we'd brought that little chair!

..but significantly less grateful for this.

We had some plasters, so I stuck one on, and threw on a whip of kinesio tape over to to try to keep it from being rubbed off. 

Run what ya brung

..and run I did. Well, some. More than in the snowshoes, without the extra weight on my feet, and also because running was far less painful than walking. I couldn't, however, run through the very deep sections, especially up the hill.

Which was also what made walking the most painful.
Of course it did.

By the time I got back from my 3rd lap and grabbed an Oreo, Tank had got the scoreboard out so I could start marking my progress.

That's the violently green thing on the table

I'd created it specifically for the intended purpose: 14 squares per row to mark Xs, with 3 rows making 42 laps.

..and some cupcakes and birthday greetings for good measure.

While I had given up on snowshoes out of necessity, Tank was sweetly helping me out by walking the trail in his snowshoes, and shuffling his feet as he did so to try to flatten it out for me.

It's actually starting to look like a trail!

I managed two more laps before my right heel brought me to a halt again, wincing as I pulled off my shoe and sock to reveal an even bigger blister.

This one hadn't de-roofed (yet), but covered a lot more surface area

I gave it the same treatment as the other one, and carried on. I had to get moving - the two stops to tend to my feet and the slow going on snowshoes meant I'd taken nearly 2 hours to cover five freakin' miles.

Only another thirty miles to go..

So, things weren't exactly ideal, and the blisters still hurt like the dickens when I walked. However, the sun finally came out, and I had providently laid in store a sizeable quantity of big, chewy oatmeal raisin cookies.

People laugh at me when I refer to ultrarunning - or at least my approach to it - as wandering around in the woods eating cookies.
Well, I suppose there weren't any woods here..

The sun on the snow started to help it pack down a bit, and I was able to run a little more each lap.

This straightaway actually got pretty good for a bit

I got in a few more laps, drinking water and whimpering a bit about my poor heels. I thought about trying to make it another 40+ kilometers with them hurting like that, and how stupid and impossible that felt.

The sun was kind of nice, though.

As time wore on, the blisters became nearly unbearable - like shards of glass stabbing into my heels as my foot would tilt on the still-unstable snow, or that spur at the back of my shoes would catch. The sun was doing awful things to the driveway, too; turning it into a soupy, sloppy mess.

..splorp-splorp-splorp..

Tank went out for another snowshoe lap to try to make things as runnable as possible for me.

He's the best <3

..but I had to do something to ease my feet, or I was going to have to quit while I was just getting started. I decided during my 10th lap to try my hail mary shot when I reached the aid station: I'd brought one other pair of shoes with me, and I hoped that they might change up the pressure points on my heels, as well as have less of a spur at the back to catch in the snow.

I swear I've never spent so much time sitting down during a run

I know that my description of the heel might sound a bit weird, but it seems to be a new thing with shoes designed for ultras - an extended heel for downhill running. The shoes I started in (Salomon Ultra Glide) are above, with that heel spur. The bottom shoes are the ones I changed into: New Balance Fresh Foam More v1, which still have a bit of an extended heel, but much less so.

See what I mean?

With yet another stop, my pace had not improved.

That wouldn't be a good pace even if the distance was in miles instead of kilometers

I had also basically decided that 42 laps was not going to happen, but I was going to try for 42+ kilometers, which meant I was nearly a third of the way through. I celebrated with a cupcake, and then got the heck on with it.

..after unzipping my jacket a bit against the growing warmth of the sun.

The new shoes made the blisters, well...less bad. They still hurt, but it was a tolerable sort of pain - the kind that still lets you notice other things, instead of filling your whole world.

Like how incredibly, deeply blue the sky had become

A couple of ladies turned up with a pair of dogs, and they seemed quite impressed that I was running through the snow; they had started across the un-tracked field from the far end of the parking lot from where Tank was stationed, and only used my tracks to do the straightaway by the 401 in the reverse directions from myself. I had started to find a bit of flow - while realizing I'd made a terrible mistake in forgetting to put on sunblock - and the laps began to accumulate.

Still so very slow, but slightly improved

Some tiny prints in the snow let me know I hadn't actually been the first one out on the trail that day: someone else had been on the hop before the snow even stopped falling, their tracks revealed by the sun's heat.

I've encountered a vole crossing the trail before near where I found these

You may wonder why I put such a large scoreboard together for this thing when I'd only need a maximum of 3 rows: I had actually invited some friends to join me, and they had sent messages through the morning. Dree was in ice-encased Grimsby and decided - quite rightly - that venturing out was not a safe option. Debbie needed to get 5hrs of hill climbing in at the local ski resort first (as she's leaving for her Everest expedition in just over 3 weeks from when this took place), and had got a late start due to needing to shovel out. Clay had spent four whole hours shoveling, and decided that would take the place of the 30km of running he'd planned to do, but still intended to come out for a few laps on his snowshoes after he got himself a bite to eat. 

I was doing ok, but that's not to say I wouldn't be glad of the company

We hoped that he'd be able to make it through the wall of snow (and that it had not been sealed off by a plow), and were delighted to see him show up a little before half past 1pm.

"Hey, I know that guy!"

I walked up and over the hill with Clay, but totally ditched him when I came to the downhill - I needed to take advantage of any "speed" that I could if I wanted to finish up before dark, though I'd brought a headlamp just in case. 

Though it seemed absurd to consider darkness with the sun shining so brightly - it would dislodge chunks of snow from the soccer dome beside the trail, which would then slide down with a zinging noise like a zipline!

The sun had also wrought some havoc on my handywork: I had asked Tank to pull the cupcakes I'd carefully baked and frosted out of the car to keep them from melting, but as they sat in their domed pod on the table they began to look a bit past their best.

But with 20 laps done, it was time to put another one out of its misery anyway

There is nothing dainty about eating a cupcake while moving over thick snow, especially a gluten free cupcake that tends toward the crumbly side. Fortunately, my feral ultrarunner instincts care not for daintyness.

Also quite fortunate it was mild enough for me to leave my gloves off

While the snow had actually started to pack down decently for a bit, the sun was a little too powerful to leave it at that: there's a large amount of paved path at the far end, up and over the hill, and the darker ground below the snow was absorbing enough energy to melt and de-stabilize.

..which would lead to my foot sliding away on me as I ran and walked

Clay finished up his second lap and called it a day, but not before helping us dispose of another cupcake!

Thank you for coming to share in some of my idiocy!

Then he was off to Chicopee to see if Debbie was still marching up and down the hill, and to accompany her for a bit if she was. Me? 

I was just boppin' along as best I could

Not going to lie, though: it was difficult. The blisters were still a large part of my consciousness, but now other regions were starting to report in with damage and discontent. Hips and lower back were definitely the main ones, mostly due to continued degradation of the snow conditions.

With further slide-outs of my feet.

Each time the snow would let go and my foot would go sideways on me, it would drop me into sort of an unexpected lateral lunge, with a jolt to my hips and back. Multiply be a dozen or so times, and I was feeling it. At 2:26pm - almost five and a half hours in - I took this pic: one of the realest running photos you'll ever see.

Cupcake crumb stuck to my chin, hiking through the snow, hurting and knowing I'm not even three-quarters done yet...but still with some hope of struggling through.

At some point in stuff like this, your brain just kind of shuts down so you can get on with it.

Not that anyone would notice much of a difference in my case - one brain cell is lost, and the other one is out looking for him

I was actually still running pretty consistently, though, on a few areas of the course: the straightaway along the 401, down the slope to the start of the uphill to the pergola; the downhill on the other side of the pergola; some of the flat straightaway to the driveway; and up the driveway itself (which is a false flat uphill).

Not the parking lot, though, because it was a damn mess

My resolution to do 42+km was wavering: things were getting really hard, I could feel my face burning in the sun, and bits of my body and I were no longer on speaking terms. However, as I told Tank, if you're going to quit just because things are difficult and you hurt, then ultras are not for you.

If, however, you like cramming your face full of candy like a toddler?
Have I got an offer for you!

I got a message from Debbie asking if I was still at it, and I confirmed that I'd be out for awhile yet - I had actually made up a little bit of time, but was still slow as heck.

I have run sub-3hrs for 30km twice in my life

In the morning, I'd had an awful memory: I used to do a 3-hour race every January, at an event that also had a 6-hour option. Not once in the eight times I did that race did I feel like I'd made the wrong decision by sticking to three hours instead of six. I was now passing 6 hours of traipsing through more snow than I ever recall having at that other event, with almost no-one else to help me pack it down. 

I also don't ever recall the snow there getting all mushy like it was on this occasion

So, I decided to indulge myself a little. While Tank had got some small bottles of cola on ice from quite early in the day..

In the finest Canadian fashion

..I asked instead for something warm: he was kind enough to oblige me by lighting up the stove and putting on a pot of coffee.

Not all heroes wear capes

Of course it would take some time to percolate, so I got in another lap while the magic happened.

By which I mean the coffee, not the spectacular sunshine

The driveway had actually cleared significantly thanks to a few sets of wheel tracks - I now had a completely snow-free corridor to run from the end of the trail up to the parking lot (though the lot itself was still heckin gross).

Much as my legs didn't really want to

I kept considering ditching my jacket for a vest, as I'd been sweating profusely for hours, but every time I'd come down the final straightaway to the driveway the wind would gust and chill me enough to stick with the extra protection. I'd finally made it to within 10km of my bare minimum goal by this point.

..which was seeming slightly less impossible.

You know what else made things seem slightly less impossible?

Oh, sweet bean!

Off I went with another oatmeal cookie and piping hot cup of coffee, figuring I'd walk the whole lap.

For someone with perpetually cold hands, I spent an astonishing amount of time comfortably gloveless

I didn't actually end up walking the whole lap, though: once I finished my cookie, I reached the downhill by the rail bridge, and my legs just take over.

It feels like a lesser-known ultrarunner achievement to run with a cup of coffee and spill less than 5 drops, travel mug or no.

By the time I made it back from that lap - after running the other downhill as well, and walking the rest while I sipped - Debbie had arrived after her hill work at Chicopee.

Crowns come in many forms

We ended up just walking the next 2 laps together, which was delightful - I had company to chat with, my legs got a bit of a rest, and I finally spotted the "secret message" that Clay said he had left for me.

It was right beside the trail, but it was by a bit I had been running, so been laser-focused on staring at where to put my feet instead of looking around

After our second lap together, I paused for a moment to say goodbye to Debbie, having reached the end of row #2 with 28 laps, and my watch saying 37.5km.

And of course Deb needed a cupcake

I knew I'd have to do at least 31 laps to make 42+km, so I got my butt moving again as the sun began its decline toward the horizon.

There's no way I'd even make 50km before sunset.

While it was a little disappointing to fall short of my 42 lap goal, my original idea for all of this back in November had been to run 42-and-a-bit kilometers: it was only after discussing with Clay, Debbie & Dree that it had been modified to 42 laps (~56.3km/~35mi). So really, I had just reverted to my original plan, right?

I mean really, who could have expected snow like this?

The melting continued in the parking lot: there was a full-on stream of water flowing down the last 50 feet of the driveway, though it puddled in the lot itself.

My feet were so wet

The trees were now almost all bare of the morning's snow load, casting ever-longer shadows across the trail. With the sun angle lower, the trench I'd made was now cast in shade, and the snow began to re-freeze without the solar energy to warm it.

Which made things a little slippery, which was not exactly ideal

I was making real progress, though: I passed the 40km mark in a little less than 8 hours, having completed 30 laps.

I celebrated with another cupcake

I knew it would take 2 more to get me the distance I wanted, so off I trudged again.

It was going to feel so good to be done this

31 laps done by 5:18pm. My shadow was very long before me as I meandered out of the aid station one last time.

There was no way I'd have had 14 more kilometers in me

Knowing this was my last look at the loop, I tried to take it all in. The ice on the uphill was getting worse, so I basically kickstepped my way up to make sure I had the best traction possible.

Much as I'd rued the sun's effects on my face and the snow, the light as it began to set was absolutely stunning.

This shot was almost worth more than 8 hours of slogging

It was cooling off, too - I had to re-zip the collar of my jacket as the wind finally overpowered the warmth of the waning day. I crossed the marathon mark, in possibly the slowest time ever.

..and had apparently lost the ability to take a clear photo

I was at the farthest point from the aid station, so I'd definitely have enough mileage to (technically) call it an ultra. Being the final lap, of course I tried to push it a little bit - smelling the barn and all.

Just the little rise on the downhill past the pergola, but frankly it was amazing I was still running at all with how my hips and legs felt. I ran down to the straightaway, walked a little to catch my breath, then pushed again.

Almost pretty enough to make me want to stay out.
Lol nah

Emerging at the driveway, I looked toward the far end of the field to see the moon already riding high over the snowpack.

Goodbye, trail - thanks for not actually breaking any of me!

No wussing out this time: I ran the whole way up the driveway and across the parking lot, finally hitting "stop" once I reached the aid station table.

DONE
(Garmin data is here)

Completed scoreboard

Since Tank had got everything packed up while I was still out wandering around in the field, all that was really left was for me to climb in the car and hope we could still get out.

That's a big 10-4

Then it was time to make the 5-minute drive home and assess the damage.

Much as I'd rather not have known

I also had a severely sunburned face, but was otherwise mostly unscathed. For the record, I wasn't the only one who was getting in on the birthday celebrations!

*fire emoji*

I was, however, the only one dumb enough to spend almost eight and a half hours traipsing around a snowy field eating cupcakes.

Most of the leftovers might have accidentally fallen in my mouth afterwards, too

So that ought to have been it for the weekend - just spend Sunday relaxing and recovering, right? Well, except Tank and I had both got new pairs of skates on Friday, and there was public skating at Hespeler Arena from 2:30-3:30pm on Sunday..

Fortunately I didn't die (and didn't even require the services of the knee guards)

There might even have been a cupcake or two left for afterward.

I want to offer my sincere thanks to Clay and Debbie for coming out: I truly appreciated you joining me, even though you had both already put in exhausting days! I also cannot express enough gratitude to my sweetheart Tanker - there aren't many people who would just stand around in a parking lot all day waiting for their wife to stop by occasionally and run the world's slowest marathon (plus a bit). I could not have done this without you, and I'm so thankful for your support.

I promise for your birthday we'll do something less stupid!

..and hopefully a little less snowy.

Cheers, y'all!